This Way Toward... Doom!

 

Perhaps eyeing the success of the DC horror/fantasy anthology titles House Of Secrets and House Of Mystery, Marvel launched two similarly themed books in late 1969: Tower Of Shadows and, one month later, Chamber Of Darkness. Like their DC counterparts which were published on a bimonthly basis (off and on), both Tower and Chamber hit the stands every other month--but it seems the similarity ends there in terms of sales, as Marvel's offerings sold poorly and were discontinued after ten and eight issues, respectively. Tower, premiering first, seemed somewhat better received by readers, judging by letters page response, though the ratio of raves to more critical assessments appeared to be about 30/70. There was also the question of sustainability, as both series began pulling in reprinted material from their earlier anthology titles from the '50s-'60s (Strange Tales and Tales Of Suspense) with their sixth issue.

Suffice to say that DC's House titles were in no danger of readers jumping ship for Marvel's offerings--though it wasn't for lack of trying on Marvel's part, at least initially, as some of the company's most notable talent were tapped to contribute stories. Roy Thomas, Jack Kirby, Stan Lee, John Buscema, Gene Colan, Len Wein, Marv Wolfman, Jim Steranko, et al. (including John Romita Sr., who mostly did cover work) were seemingly able to accommodate seven-page assignments (or less) within a two-month window (though I believe Steranko withdrew after only one story, reportedly due to a disagreement with Lee)--with some artists even pulling double duty and contributing scripts as well as art, in addition to inkers providing readers with examples of their own pencils.

After their all-too-brief runs, each title shifted to formats made up of almost entirely reprinted material, in addition to adopting new mastheads. Tower became Creatures On The Loose, which mixed its reprints with sword and sorcery tales as well as a regular feature on Man-Wolf, while Chamber morphed to Monsters On The Prowl--each book having a run of 30 to 37 bimonthly issues (the creatures pulling ahead of the monsters--make of that what you will). But since there's a little more ground to cover with both Tower and Chamber, and having already examined Jack Kirby's stories in the latter, let's turn to a few samples from some of the other names we've mentioned who made their mark in the macabre during the brief time when these two titles were being published.

The Coming(s) of... Dr. Strange!

 

As he did in Sub-Mariner, Fantastic Four, and Invincible Iron Man, writer Roy Thomas came aboard Doctor Strange in mid-1968 (the first issue of Strange's first solo series) and provided an expanded version of the title character's origin--perhaps partly as a way to pivot to a new direction, but also to use a different "lens" of sorts to offer new perspective to Stephen Strange the man, characterization which was skirted by in the original telling by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko but which artist Dan Adkins appears eager to offer.

Thomas's updated version, which appears 4½ years after the original origin story, offers an interesting comparison of storytelling styles between the new material and Strange's origin as depicted by Lee and Ditko. For one thing, Adkins had the luxury of presenting his work within a full issue of twenty pages--and though Ditko included the essential scenes in his story, he had only eight pages in which to frame it, given that the character of Dr. Strange at the time was a feature of Strange Tales which shared its issue space with a second Marvel character in a separate story (while also making room for a fictional "strange tale" insert). Thanks to the additional leeway, Thomas and Adkins can take a more presentational approach with Strange in his new series, while taking advantage of his brief history in battling occult threats to have him wondering if he's the right person for the challenges he faces.  (Thomas would later take a similar approach with Iron Man.)

While in Lee's version, the introduction comes in the form of a narrative splash page which immediately lets us know we're about to read Strange's origin; yet from there, we jump directly to Strange's arrival at the Ancient One's abode in India*, and work our way backwards.

The Part-Time Captain Marvel

In the fall of 1969, the creative team of Roy Thomas, Gil Kane, and Dan Adkins* was piped aboard the flagging series Captain Marvel to presumably inject its title character with new life--though in hindsight, it could be argued that too much emphasis was perhaps placed on revitalizing Mar-vell without giving much thought to how to structure the series itself from this point on. If true, what happened afterward shouldn't have come as a surprise. The "new" Captain Marvel went on hiatus after just three issues, in what would be an absence of six months--after which, Thomas and his team returned to contribute an additional two (bi-monthly) issues which effectively nailed the coffin lid shut on the book for the near-future, relegating Mar-vell to the role of guest-star in other stories where he could hopefully benefit from the exposure he would receive from high-profile characters like the Avengers.

*Artist John Buscema was also brought in to pencil the final half of the team's second issue, which seemed to be an indication that this new direction for Mar-vell was rather abruptly thrown together.

It wasn't the first such attempt to tweak Mar-vell's makeup. Even after only ten issues of his regular title were published, the character was given "powers" that would bring him closer to being associated with Marvel's super-hero ranks (if not to take his place among them quite yet)--thanks to an elaborate deception initiated by Kree Imperial Minister Zarek and Ronan the Accuser, as part of a coup designed to seize power from the Supreme Intelligence. Mar-vell falls for the ruse hook, line and sinker, pledging himself to the service of an all-powerful being named "Zo" and consequently being granted impressive new abilities accordingly.

Despite the machinations of Zarek and Ronan, however, the coup fails--resulting in Mar-vell being recalled from Earth and honored for bravery for his efforts against their plot (which included their pawn and Mar-vell's enemy, Colonel Yon-rogg). That honor leads to Mar-vell receiving distinctive new garb, though it comes with a condition:

As we'll learn, Mar-vell's abilities would be further revised following his return to Earth.  Currently, however, he retains some of the powers granted by "Zo":  He doesn't "teleport" per se, though he can travel in the void of space at great speed... and the jury is out on whether he still has his illusion-casting ability.

As Mar-vell takes off for Earth once more to resume his pursuit of Yon-rogg, we see the first instance of the curious adversity he's saddled with regarding his virtual imprisonment within the nightmarish Negative Zone. To the reader, it appears that the Intelligence has suddenly and inexplicably changed his tune in his regard toward Mar-vell, though we would later discover that it seems geared toward aligning Mar-vell's life with that of Rick Jones, and vice versa.

"And Men Shall Call Him... Warlock!"

I tend to think of Marvel Premiere as the title where Steve Englehart and Frank Brunner came in and began their memorable collaboration on Dr. Strange, which led to the character starring in his second series. The Dr. Strange Premiere stories comprise a six-issue run (including a mostly reprint issue, bookended by new content) that I still highly recommend, one that's billed appropriately: "...the reaffirmation of comics' most extraordinary series!"--which rang true in more ways than one, given that the character's future was highly in doubt with the four Dr. Strange stories appearing before Mssrs. Englehart and Brunner climbed aboard.

Yet the Premiere book carries another distinction with its launch in April of 1972--the introduction of Warlock, a refit of the character who began his existence in 1967 as Him and eventually ended up in outer space encased in his cocoon. Having emerged in his own try-out series, he's decided to alter his look by adopting armor and ornaments (along with a lot of eyeliner) that give him an Egyptian bearing--as well as marking his chest with the symbol of a lightning bolt, for whatever reason. Why a lightning bolt, one can't help but wonder. He must have wanted to display it for some reason--it couldn't have just come with the new raiment, after all--but I don't believe it was ever elaborated on.

As for the new handle, we can thank the one who found and recovered his cocoon--the High Evolutionary--for tagging him with a name we can only hope we'll learn more of the reason behind in subsequent stories:

"You could have lived forever... a creature apart, drifting silent thru the seas of space. Yet now, you'll walk the Earth... uncanny your sacred mission... unearthly your weirdling powers. And, beholding them... men shall call you Warlock!"

And since the words reverberate in his mind when he awakens on Counter-Earth, and he blurts the name out to the first people he meets, "Warlock" it is.

But first, this inaugural story will lay sound groundwork and explore the link it establishes between the one still known as Him and the Evolutionary--as well as reveal a grand, ambitious plan to create a new world, populated by those who were never tainted with the killer instinct and other flaws that have consigned the human race to perpetual inhumanity and despair. It was that world which Him fled, his instincts warning him of the nature of its people. Will he now make the choice of returning to that kind of world, in order to save its people from destruction?

The Secret... The Power... The Nightmare!

With his renewed exposure in Marvel Feature from late 1971 to mid-1972 as one of the Defenders, followed almost immediately by a prominent appearance in Amazing Spider-Man, it certainly seemed that steps were being taken to test the waters of Dr. Strange returning to his own series. What sealed the deal for the character was a string of well-received (if bi-monthly) issues by Steve Englehart and Frank Brunner in the pages of Marvel Premiere, at the end of which Strange segued to the 1974 Doctor Strange #1.

But prior to that, it was the first six issues of Premiere which reintroduced Strange as a character in his own right (albeit a character who by then had received a considerable bump from his association with the Hulk and the Sub-Mariner as one-third of their informal team).

At first, however, it appeared that little thought had been given to how Strange would be handled in these new stories beyond getting him back in circulation, if the revolving door of writers and artists we were greeted with were any indication. Strange's stock-in-trade was the eerie and the mysterious; yet the month following Strange's solo debut, Englehart's The Defenders #1 would hit the stands, where Strange would be hobnobbing with Marvel's mainstream super-heroes and super-villains. Which Dr. Strange would readers expect to see? Until Englehart would take over the character in Premiere and provide a measure of coherency for Strange in these two separate worlds, it was a struggle to take an interest in the character appearing in Premiere, where Strange himself seemed to be struggling under the yoke of different writers and artists who weren't quite suited to him, as a letters page response acknowledges in so many words.

But in this first appearance, the character's original writer, Stan Lee, does an excellent job of reigniting our interest in Dr. Strange--helped in no small part by artist Barry Smith (who also plotted this story), whose work I've at times taken issue with but whose style seems suited to the realms and situations which Strange often finds himself in (a style that's at times reminiscent of Craig Russell). With Smith's work here embellished by Dan Adkins, who's no *ahem* stranger to this character by any means, the story works out to be a fine first step back into the limelight for Dr. Strange.

Though Lovers Be Lost...!

As frequently as Shalla Bal, the beloved of the tragic Silver Surfer, finds herself traveling to Earth to be used as a pawn in some scheme against the sky-rider, she should consider investing in a time-share--except that her visits invariably end with her being sent back to her planet, Zenn-La, leaving the Surfer a heartsick wreck at the unfairness of it all. But in a two-part Silver Surfer story from late 1969, it's Shalla Bal who takes the initiative this time in making the journey to Earth--while the Surfer struggles to understand the driving force behind the savage and hostile behavior of the humans with whom he must share this world.

Cheaters Sometimes Prosper

Before Marvel's "Giant-Size" line of comics began relying on reprinted material to meet their deadlines, several of the titles in that format produced some noteworthy stories--particularly those featuring the dynamic Defenders, who in 1975 were operating with a core "membership" of Dr. Strange, the Hulk, the Valykrie, and Nighthawk. The Defenders wouldn't have their one and only annual published until over a year later, so a large format book with 40+ pages coming out two or three times a year made for interesting diversions from their monthly title. Despite their unofficial status as a super-team, the Defenders have played in the same arena as the big boys often enough to stand out on the comics racks, taking on mainstream threats like the Squadron Sinister, Magneto, the Wrecking Crew, the Sons of the Serpent, et al. (to say nothing of the Avengers) and keeping them in the comics limelight, if under the radar in terms of their publicity.

So in their third giant-size book, it's something of a masterstroke to see the Defenders deal with the likes of none other than the Grandmaster, whose deadly sense of gamesmanship now reaches out to conscript these individuals and place them on a new level of conflict involving the highest stakes while arguably raising their profile with comics readers. Previously, the Grandmaster played his high-stakes match with Kang the Conqueror, with the Avengers as Kang's champions; but now, in only his second appearance, the Grandmaster returns, once again compelled to compete with another using living chess pieces in combat to determine the winner of the game.

The Grandmaster's opponent this time is the Prime Mover, an artificial construct created by Dr. Doom in order to manipulate agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., making his (its?) second appearance, as well--another nice touch that this issue includes, and a workable opponent for the Grandmaster.

In choosing the Mover, the stakes of the match perhaps lack the drama that Kang's presence and behind-the-scenes activities brought to the table. The Mover, if he wins, is given power to enslave the Earth--while the Grandmaster, should he triumph, simply goes on his way, with no interest in the fate of Earth one way or the other. Both players only have eyes for the game, lacking Kang's passion and simmering rage; it's left to the Defenders, then, to provide the story with action, just as the Avengers did previously.

Once Nighthawk seeks out and secures the aid of Daredevil to make the heroes' roster an even six, play commences--but not before Daredevil and ourselves are introduced to the Defenders, in a stylish segment by writer Steve Gerber and artist Jim Starlin that seems designed to sell a new reader on this group and make a distinctive impression.

When Artists Changed Hats

While it's always nice to have a reliable penciller/inker combo when reading your favorite comic, sometimes it's nice when management slips in a guest artist to fill one or both of those slots, just to have a little something new and to see what a different style brings to the character(s). In fact, in those early Silver Age stories, when artist staff was tight and finishers were making the rounds among different titles practically every month, there would occasionally be artist team-ups that were a real treat to find together, even if just to satisfy your curiosity as to how the final product would look.

For instance, in Jack Kirby's last few issues of Mighty Thor, Bill Everett steps in briefly for long-time Thor inker Vince Colletta and turns in some outstanding work that enhanced a lot of nice detail which Colletta generally suppressed:

By the way, did you know Hogun the Grim's mace was enchanted? Wait, it's not? Are you sure??

While Hogun prepares to mercilessly brain another enemy of Asgard, let's look at some other cool combos that gave us some interesting results.

The Ties That Bind

Sub-Mariner #56 remains one of my all-time favorite issues of Namor's first series, though with only 16 issues remaining until the title would be cancelled. It's a feast for the eyes in every way, from its beautiful opening splash page to its tragic ending--with Dan Adkins stepping aboard to do the full artwork, accompanying a surprisingly thoughtful and riveting story by Mike Friedrich. Since he abdicated his throne and effectively veered away from any course writer Roy Thomas might have been charting for him, the Sub-Mariner, like his former kingdom, has been at loose ends, with no real direction and certainly less involvement and influence as far as the surface world is concerned. We'll see in this issue that, despite the listless feeling his book conveys to readership, Namor relishes that freedom--but for such a man, turning his back on his responsibilities can come at a steep price.

For a writer new to the book, Friedrich shows a (I must use the word again) surprising grasp of the Sub-Mariner's character--not just his strength of mind and body, but his uniqueness among Marvel's other heroes, as well as where he currently stands in his book as far as his state of mind. No small credit must be given to Adkins, who plotted this story which has given Friedrich so much to work with; but the Namor in this story, as written by Friedrich, comes across as a very interesting comics character, one who seems more than capable of supporting a solo series. Namor has been absent from his kingdom for almost twenty issues at this point; yet, given how at ease he seems in his self-exile and isolation, he gives the impression of being quite ready to go another twenty, if not more. Once you've turned the last page in this issue, you'll probably find yourself wishing that Friedrich and Adkins had extended their stay, at least long enough to give the Sub-Mariner new direction.

In the spirit of full disclosure, though, Namor's indulgence in his self-sufficiency in this story's beginning is Friedrich's way of laying the foundation for what's to come. Atlantis has never been necessary for Namor's evolution as a character--but as we'll see, it can still work well with Namor under the right circumstances. It is, after all, part of his history and heritage--much as Namor would like to avoid admitting it, at least for awhile.

The Hero Who Wouldn't Die!

When "The Sensational NEW" Captain Marvel ended its five-issue run in late 1970 with issue #21, you can't say they didn't send him out with a bang:

Issue #17, which began the adventures of Mar-vell in his new costume, continued the title's publication schedule without missing a beat, which made it seem to the buyer that Captain Marvel was simply continuing the original series while taking the character in a new direction. But it would only take three more issues before it became apparent that the book was on life support. Its fourth issue, #20, was delayed for a whopping six months, with its cover doing its best to make lemonade out of a lemon:

Another two months would pass before the fifth and, as it turned out, final issue went on sale. Though to hear Marvel tell it, these five issues of Captain Marvel were never meant to be more than a limited run:

Oh, I'm guessing your readers had already rendered their verdict, gentlemen.

Yet, putting aside the spin, it's clear that the creative team of writer Roy Thomas, artists Gil Kane and Dan Adkins spared no effort to close this series with a decent issue, featuring a fine matchup between Mar-vell and the Hulk and showcasing each of them nicely. I don't know what kind of an audience its story found at this point, but in hindsight you have to wonder what was fundamentally missing in this character that such talents as Thomas, Kane, and Adkins couldn't pull him out of his nose dive and make the book a top seller. If the character of Captain Marvel was ever going to find his legs, it should have been here, and with these people holding the creative reins.

The story actually begins in the prior issue, where Rick Jones has sought out Bruce Banner at his hidden lab in the desert, in the hope that his old friend can free him of his dual existence with Mar-vell:

Naturally, the closing pages of that issue use a raging Hulk on the verge of attacking Rick to prod readers into picking up the next issue. Which probably gives you an idea of what's wrong with this title: can't Mar-vell close his own issue? Isn't he enough of a draw to sell the next issue of his own mag?

In fact, the Hulk is handled so well in the follow-up scene, you're almost wondering who's supposed to be carrying this story:

With the situation defused, the Hulk changes back, and Banner gets to work on finding access to the Negative Zone. Here, as in a later Avengers story, Thomas finds a reason not to seek assistance directly from Reed Richards, who can basically say "sure, no problem, glad to help" and have Mar-vell out of the Negative Zone before you can say "Annihilus," so we have to swallow that Banner can throw together something from scratch to access the Zone. At least the story provides a further complication, when a colleague that Banner wishes to consult with at a nearby university ("Desert State University"--what else?) is being besieged by student protests, which puts additional strain on an already strained Bruce Banner:

The Hulk, in his rage, lashes out and destroys all the lab equipment that Banner had finished up to that point, dooming the project. And when Rick changes to Mar-vell, who attempts to calm the Hulk--well, Mar-vell isn't going to rack up any sales that way, is he?

Blinded By Rage

By the time the Sub-Mariner series ended in September, 1974 (though as The Savage Sub-Mariner for the past year), the book was arguably on its last legs. The spike in readership which Namor's dramatic costume change had been meant to usher in hadn't materialized, and the book went to bi-monthly publication directly afterward. Also, artist/writer Bill Everett, who had come back aboard and given the series something of a new lease on life in 1972, had passed away in early 1973, resulting in the book shifting in writers and artists as it tried to find stability. Even Atlantis, which Namor had finally returned to, had for all intents and purposes been removed from the book, its population victims of exposure to nerve gas (or of the editorial change in direction, take your pick); and from then on, Namor spent much of his time following leads that would hopefully result in a cure and restore his people.

But time had run out for Namor, and Marvel pulled the plug on The Savage Sub-Mariner with issue #72. Not unexpectedly, the cover of its final issue was as sensationalized as prior issues which sought to coax readers:

For instance, the creature attacking Namor wasn't called the "Slime-Thing"; in fact, it never spoke a word, much less gave itself a name (and a self-degrading one at that). Nor were the men at the waterfront armed. And as for the fate of the "two worlds" of Atlantis and the surface world being at stake--or even relevant--nothing could be further from the truth, as the fights taking place in the issue were strictly personal.

Let There Be Battle!

Marvel 100th Anniversary Issues

FEATURING:

Tales To Astonish #100

After thirty issues of co-starring in the Tales To Astonish title, and with their own solo books launching later in 1968, it seemed only fitting that the 100th issue of this book send the Hulk and Sub-Mariner out with a bang--while also taking advantage of a nice promotional opportunity for their new books at the same time. As with its sister book, Tales of Suspense, which featured Captain America and Iron Man, Tales To Astonish would give its feature characters the same treatment in terms of their respective first issues: Namor's new book would start at #1, while the Hulk's new solo series would begin its numbering in the 100s, perhaps in an effort to make sure at least one of the new titles brought over any former Tales to Astonish readers.

This 100th issue bills itself as "an epic 22-page battle," which is a clever way to have readers thinking that they're getting much more story and art for the money than they normally would. The answer to that would be--yes and no. Normally, the two-story format of the book allocated for each character about 10 or 11 pages of story--so with both co-stars in the same story, your reading experience transforms into a a full 22-page tale. You're actually still reading a regular-sized comic book, just like you'd find in any other Marvel mag on the rack--even though this story is giving you more of each character than you normally might receive.

But, honestly? You're really not going to care about Marvel's little sleight of hand here. Because writer Stan Lee, penciller Marie Severin, and inker Dan Adkins fully deliver that "epic battle" part. And with the opening splash page, Lee moves right into the preliminaries:

The Smaller Surfer

It took thirteen issues into the Silver Surfer's first series for readers to sound off (or, perhaps, simply to be acknowledged) about a change in the Surfer's look that happened fairly early in the title:

The two readers are referring to the introduction of what the Hulk would probably call the "puny Surfer." Where the Surfer was noticeably shifted from a formidable figure:

...to a figure who looks like he could be flattened by his own masthead:

And along with the loss of mass came a startling loss of detail and silvery finish, as these side-by-side before-and-after images show:

Until, by the next-to-last issue of the Surfer's run, he'd been reduced (literally) to almost puppet stature:

Nor was the letters page any quieter on the subject:

So to refresh my memory, I took a look at the Surfer's first appearance in Fantastic Four, drawn by artist Jack Kirby. I didn't expect to find Johnny Weissmuller portraying the Surfer, of course, but I didn't find a 98-pound weakling, either:

In a book on artist Sal Buscema by Jim Amash and Eric Nolen-Weatherington, Buscema is reported to have said that his brother John had asked for him to replace inker Joe Sinnott on the Surfer book because of the feeling that Sinnott was overpowering his pencils.  So the change in the creative team was made.  Sal would end up staying on the book for about four issues, and then Dan Adkins came aboard to ink the bulk of the Surfer's remaining issues. And by the end, despite presumably more of John Buscema's pencils distinguishing the character, there seemed to be very little of the artist in the Surfer--short of minimal layouts.

Finally, Marvel would give a tepid response to the issue:

Good lord, grasping at straws for "a silent majority." It seems clear which way Marvel is swinging on this, doesn't it. Unfortunately, the subject would become moot with the cancellation of the Surfer's title after the next issue.

When the Surfer next appears a little over a year later in the pages of Thor, with John Buscema again as penciller, apparently Sam Grainger's inking on the prior issue's closing panel didn't agree with Buscema--and Sal Buscema was once again brought in to ink his brother's work on the Surfer. And look at the change of Buscema's presentation of the character from one issue to the next. First, Grainger's gleaming and strong figure:

And then, freshly bleached and trimmed down by the Buscema brothers:

There's an obvious reason why inkers are often referred to as "finishers," as they "flesh out" the initial work of the penciller into something recognizable that has form and substance and reaches off the page.  If we take a look at Buscema's next work on the Surfer, look at how Sinnott once again gives us a more "finished" product:

Which is not to say the fault for the Surfer's steadily diminishing stature should be entirely laid on the finisher's doorstep.  Over the years, it was clear that a "heavier" inker was needed for John Buscema's work, with the strength and detail of his earlier incredible pencils at Marvel nowhere evident in his later artwork.  Yet the almost dizzying decline of his work on the Silver Surfer series in a span of just seventeen issues stands out from the rest, as it was arguably more high-profile--a description the Surfer himself, ironically, couldn't claim for his own appearance at the end of his run.